


Home

by hellvetica



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:25:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellvetica/pseuds/hellvetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had the loft really become home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

When had Reese started to think of the loft as home? ‘Home’ was not a concept the world-weary warrior entertained readily or often. During his days in the military, home was more likely than not a Spartan barracks on some long forgotten base. All his personal belongings had fit into a drab green locker. He wasn’t allowed anything more. Later, at the agency, he was never in one place long enough to put down any roots and call a place ‘home’. Sure he had that small efficiency apartment that held a change of clothes and provided an address should the need arise. There were times even he did not remember who he was supposed be for that address No, he didn’t get a lot of mail there.

‘Home’ for a while had been anywhere on the street he found himself for the night. He slept on the subways to stay warm. Riding endlessly through the night. He slept under bridges, viaducts and exchanges. He slept any place that provided shelter from the elements and the people hunting for him. A large cardboard box in a homeless encampment had been ‘home’ for the longest period during this time.

Thanks to the array of bankcards provided by Harold when he started working for him, he could afford much more than he needed. Still he continued to move from hotel to hotel. Old habits were hard to break and attention to small details kept him alive. Moving frequently felt safer than staying in one place.

When Harold had surprised him with the loft as a birthday gift, he had hesitated. This was so much more than he was accustomed to. The expanse of space seemed a waste for just a place to sleep. It had taken only one trip to move in, his clothes in a garment bag and his more durable accessories in a large duffle bag. The openness of the loft and the bank of windows left him feeling vulnerable. He often slept on the small cot at the library. 

Maybe it had started to feel like a home the last time he had been injured and had taken to his bed to lick his wounds. Harold had showed up at his door with a sack of groceries, eggs, milk and cereal. He had fussed around the kitchen fixing him a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, all the while complaining about the lack of kitchen amenities. Mr. Reese thought about reminding him who was responsible for the decorating and stocking of the kitchen, but some thoughts are better left unspoken. Instead he ate the food placed in front of him because he needed nourishment and drifted back to sleep to the sound of Harold clearing the dishes.

Harold had started stopping by more frequently after that and the loft did not seem as empty. He still did not think of it as home, but it came as close as any other place he had lived. Hearing a slight noise behind him, he turned in the bed to see Harold coming out of the bathroom wearing his ridiculously expensive silk pajamas—the blue ones. He had yet to figure out why Harold insisted on wearing pajamas to bed. They never stayed on for very long, but it was such fun getting Harold out of them that he was becoming a fan of pajamas ---on Harold. 

Watching Harold pad across the floor in his bare feet, his throat constricted and he felt a sudden need to breath deeply. Reese suddenly realized the loft wasn’t home—Harold was. The realization caused a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth as he lifted the covers to welcome Harold into bed. He was home.


End file.
